And So We Meet Again
by Operation Zero
Summary: It's been nearly a year since the Mew Mews and the Cyniclons parted ways. When the Cyniclons decide to make a surprise trip back to Earth, things begin to go haywire! Zoey doesn't know what to think now that Dren is back, claiming to be on their side. Will she learn to trust an old foe, or will a second war ensue between the two groups? Find out in this exciting new fic!


_**A/N:**_ So, this is my first Tokyo Mew Mew/ Mew Mew Power fic in YEARS. Seriously, the last one I wrote was several years ago and it completely blew. Lately I've gotten back into the show, so I decided to give it another go. I hope you all enjoy!

 _ **Disclaimer**_ : I DO NOT OWN TOKYO MEW MEW/ MEW MEW POWER OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS INVOLVED.

Chapter One

 _I don't think he's breathing, Sardon!_

 _Tarb, please. Use your eyes. See how his chest is rising and falling ever so slightly? He's breathing, but only just by the looks of thing._

 _I have an idea! Maybe if I scream really loud in his ear, it'll scare him awake! What do you think?_

 _You really are clueless, aren't you? He's not asleep, Tarb. If he_ were _asleep, I'm positive that he would have woken up by now._

 _So what do you suggest that we do?_

 _I'm not sure that I can provide a solution in this situation._

 _Wait! Sardon, I think he's waking up!_

Dren could hear two separate voices, and loud ones at that. The fact that Dren could hear people speaking meant that one of two things was happening. Either he was hearing the voices of the dead, or he was somehow alive. Truthfully, he hoped desperately that it was the latter of the two.

"Dren? Come on, wake up you big idiot!" one of the voices yelled. Dren couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity, like he knew the voice quite well. It took him a few seconds to realize why it sounded so familiar. It was Tarb's voice! ' _No, it couldn't be_ ,' Dren thought to himself. Of course, there was only one real way to find out.

Convinced that this was just one shockingly vivid dream, Dren forced his eyes open. For a moment after opening his eyes, he couldn't see a single thing. His eyes were rendered useless for the time being as everything was pitch black. Within a matter of seconds, however, the black began to retreat and things became much clearer as everything around Dren came to life. While he had his vision once more, his eyes burned fiercely. Light stung his amber orbs, causing him to squint. It was as though his eyes hadn't seen light in ages.

"See, Tarb? I told you that he was alive," the second voice said matter-of-factly.

Like the first voice, Dren felt a wave of familiarity surround him. He knew this one as well. It didn't take him long to realize that the voice belonged to none other than Sardon. At least, it certainly sounded like Sardon's voice, but how could that be? Feeling utterly confused, Dren sat up and rubbed his burning eyes that had yet to completely adjust to the light. Sure enough, Dren's vision improved and standing- or rather floating- there before him, he saw his too closest companions.

"Nice of you to finally wake up," Tarb said, crossing his arms over his chest.  
Frowning, Dren mumbled something inaudible under his breath, mildly surprised by the sound of his own voice coupled with the fact that it hurt his throat to make sound of any kind. His voice sounded and felt scratchy and dry, as if his vocal cords hadn't been used in a very long time.

"You had us worried there for quite some time," Sardon chimed in his usual monotone voice. "Tarb and I both thought that the worst had happened. We thought that you were dead," he mused.

' _Yeah, well, that makes three of us_ ,' Dren thought to himself feeling thoroughly annoyed.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Dren finally found his voice. "How long have I been out?" the Cyniclon asked out of sheer curiosity. He knew that he hadn't simply been asleep like Tarb had suggested. No, it was something else, something that had lasted much longer than just a nap. It felt like more of a coma to be truthful.

"How long indeed," came Sardon's reply. "Based on my calculations, all three of us have been unconscious for quite some time. To be more exact, we've been out cold for close to a year." Both Tarb and Dren gaped at the oldest Cyniclon in absolute shock.

"A year?! What the heck do you mean a year?" Dren demanded, making the disbelief that he felt all too apparent.

"I mean that the three of us have been suspended in an unconscious state for an entire Earth year. I shouldn't think it that hard to understand," Sardon said, impatiently.

"Au contraire, my dear friend," Dren said, frowning. "I do not in any way understand how we could have been unconscious for that long. In fact, if memory serves correct, we're all supposed to be dead."

And there it was, the horrible unescapable truth. In reality, the cyniclon trio should have been dead. It was a fact that they all knew, but only one of them had the guts to actually say it out loud. Silence washed over the trio as their eyes shifted between one another.

Many minutes passed before anyone dared to speak again. Finally, Tarb broke the agonizing silence.

"Do either of you remember just what the heck happened?" the younger alien asked. Sardon's reply came in the form of a blank stare. Dren, on the other hand, remembered almost everything that had gone down.

It had happened after the three Cyniclons returned to their own planet with the Blue Aqua. No sooner had they announced their victory than all hell had broken loose. Dren, Sardon and Tarb had been promptly captured and taken into custody.

"It was because of our actions against Deep Blue, and the fact that we failed our original mission," Dren explained as the memories came flooding back in pieces. "They injected us with something, didn't they?" he asked, his amber eyes dulling.

"I remember now," Sardon announced much to Tarb and Dren's surprise. "You are correct, Dren. They injected us with a sort of coma-inducing serum," the oldest explained, crossing his arms.

"I guess that does make sense," Tarb said, scratching his head. "There's still something that I don't understand. How'd we end up here?"

Dren looked all around them, a sudden realization dawning on him. They were no longer on their home planet. They were on a different planet entirely, one that seemed very barren from the looks of things. "They must have brought us here after they drugged us," he theorized while a frown distorted his features. He sat up and sighed, taking a moment to rest his head in his hands. "Tarb, Sardon, I owe you both an apology. It's my fault that we were exiled to this dump of a planet."

Tarb floated his way over to the man who was very much like a brother to him and patted him on the back. "Aw, don't sell yourself short, Drenny Dren," the brown-haired alien said reassuringly.

Sardon uncrossed his arms and approached the two. "Tarb is right, Dren. We all know who is truly at fault for our current situation." Even though Sardon did not say who _was_ at fault, he didn't have to. Tarb and Dren both knew all too well who the brunt of the blame belonged to.

 _The Mew Mews._

 _Zoey._

Dren's heart still ached every time her name popped into his head. In the end, Dren had died to protect the girl, only to be revived by the power of the Blue Aqua and steal one final kiss before taking his leave. There was no doubt in his mind that she was still with that tree-hugging goody goody, Mark. Just thinking about that man made Dren feel nauseated.

"Hey, Dren, you okay? You look like you might hurl," Tarb said, taking notice of the rather disgusted look that had painted itself onto Dren's pale face.

"What?" Dren asked, blinking as his train of thought derailed.

"Tell me, Dren, is there something on your mind?" asked Sardon, quirking an eyebrow at the green-haired alien.

Dren sighed and lay on his back, putting his arms behind his head. "No, no. It's nothing that you two need concern yourself with," Dren said, using one hand to wave it away. Sure, Dren could have told Tarb and Sardon about his Zoey problem. However, knowing those two bone heads, Tarb would have laughed at him while Sardon would launch into some lame lecture about the odds of Dren even seeing Zoey again. After giving the matter a little thought, he decided that telling either of them was completely pointless.

After nearly an hour of absolute silence, Tarb spoke up. "I'm so bored! There's nothing to do here!" the pipsqueak yelled, kicking and punching at the air.

"There doesn't appear to be any food or water here either." Sardon said as he jumped down from a large boulder. "So there's no way that we'll survive here for more than a couple of days."

Dren sat up and frowned, raising a brow in Sardon's direction. "Then explain to me how we've survived here for the past year," he demanded, standing up and stretching his aching limbs.

"If my theory is correct, then the substance that we were injected with would have had to shut down our bodies entirely for us to still be alive," Sardon explained as Dren and Tarb listened intently.

"Great. So no food and no water. Well, we're goners," Tarb huffed.

"Unless," Dren began, a sly grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. Tarb and Sardon both directed their attention to the alien with renewed interest.

"Unless what? Dren, please tell me that you have some sort of plan," Tarb pleaded, clasping his hands together as if he was begging for an answer.

Dren's grin grew wider. "Unless we relocate to somewhere else, somewhere where we know we can survive." Based on the vacant looks on his friends' faces, Dren could tell that they had no idea what he was trying to get at. "Think, you idiots! Think!" he hissed, growing wildly impatient.

"The only place I can think of is Earth," Tarb said, blinking absentmindedly at Dren as he shrugged his shoulders.

The second-oldest Cyniclon sighed dramatically as he rolled his amber eyes. "Exactly! We survived on Earth for nearly a year, fighting those pesky Mew Mews before they sent us away," Dren reminded Sardon and Tarb. "I really don't see any reason why we can't go back. Our people got what they wanted," he said, clenching his fists so tightly that his knuckled turned white. "Now it's our turn." Truth be told, Dren wasn't sure if he was referring to living somewhere they could survive or wanting to see the look of pure shock on Zoey's pretty face when she saw that he had returned.

Neither Sardon nor Tarb said anything for a long while.

"Dren, I'm just not sure," Sardon finally said, sounding doubtful. "I mean, returning to that place after all of the trouble that we caused would prove to be risky and no doubt dangerous as well," the silver haired alien said matter-of-factly.

Dren frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. Sardon always had to be such a spoil sport, ruining Dren's plans with unwanted logic. So, Dren turned to Tarb for back up.

"Sorry, but I'm with Mr. Logic on this one," Tarb said, looking at Dren apologetically.

Dren growled, clenching and unclenching his fists as he grinded his teeth together. "Whatever," he said sharply. "Go on, be massive party poopers if you wish. It really doesn't make that much of a difference," he said, shrugging. "My mind is already made up. I'm going to Earth with or without the two of you." The cyniclon turned on his heels and began walking towards the space craft sitting a few yards away. Before he reached the vehicle, he craned his neck to look over his shoulder at Tarb. "Oh, and I'll make sure to tell your little monkey Mew that you said hi," Dren said with a sly grin. He had a sneaking suspicion that if he said the right thing, Tarb would side with him. His hunch seemed to be correct, because when he turned back to look at the mini Cyniclon, Tarb was shooting him a pleading look.

Sardon sighed and rolled his eyes. "Alright, alright. You two are so very annoying sometimes. However, Dren, if you're truly dead set on returning to Earth, then I suppose I have no choice but to go as well," the eldest alien said, sounding and feeling utterly defeated.

Two hours later, the Cyniclons had everything ready to go.

"I seriously can't believe that they left us with a ship! How dumb are they?" Tarb asked, grinning from pointy ear to ear as he clambered into the spacecraft.

"They probably just left it here on the off chance that would all survive the serum," Sardon pointed out, climbing in after Tarb. "Besides, there is a very low chance that the ship will even start," said the silver-haired Cyniclon.  
Dren was last, bringing up the rear. "Oh, come off it. I'm sure it'll work just fine," he said, rolling his eyes. ' _It had better work.'_

"Let's see if I still remember how to do this," Sardon said, cracking his knuckles as he took a seat at the control board. Dren sat in the co-pilot seat, and Tarb took the seat directly behind that.

' _Please work. Please work_ ,' Dren silently pleaded, keeping his fingers crossed.

Sardon took a deep breath before pressing a number of keys in succession. In a matter of seconds, the ship's engine roared to life. Tarb and Dren exchanged high fives while Sardon kept to himself, feeling prideful. Slowly and with great caution, Sardon lifted the ship inches off of the ground. "Now setting a course for Earth."

' _I'm coming, Zoey._ '


End file.
